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by Spoon888



Series: Mission And Companion Pieces [12]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Dadatron, Gen, Implied Mech Preg, M/M, Protective Megatron, Serious Injuries, Transformer Sparklings, Whump, father-son bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22101616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spoon888/pseuds/Spoon888
Summary: Megatron was a sire, which meant he was undefeated, impenetrable, and invincible. To his sparklings at least.So it's a hard day for Mission when he realises his sire is just as vulnerable as anyone else.
Relationships: Megatron/Starscream
Series: Mission And Companion Pieces [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/638945
Comments: 32
Kudos: 282





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'Wet' was how his sire had described the planet they were to search. Wet and humid.

What Megatron had failed to mention was that it was also a near lifeless husk. Uncivilised, uninhabited, and consisting almost entirely of rock and water - warm water, boiled by the solar system's ancient sun so it filled the atmosphere with a thick steam. It was humid enough to clog the filters of their vents. Mission coughed, his intakes struggling.

His sire glanced back at him as they walked. Mission spied a smirk pulling at his lips.

"I thought this was a serious mission," he complained. He had been hoping for cities and aliens and _danger_. Not a ten mile hike through a desert of rock.

"It is serious," Megatron grunted, gesturing for him to come out from behind him and stand at his side. Reluctant, kicking at the loose rocks underpede, Mission did, grimacing at how unpleasantly damp with humidity their armour plating was when his arm brushed against his sire's.

"Ugh," he grumbled, extending his arms out in front of himself and widening the seams in his armour to try and let some of the moisture escape. "Disgusting."

"Careful. You're turning into your creator."

Mission's glare darkened.

Immune to the displeasure of fussy seekers, Megatron lowered a holo-map for Mission's inspection. They were following the blinking red mark in the blue map's centre. An energy signature, tracking a band of smugglers known to be operating in Decepticon territories. With any luck they had found the reprobates's hovel. And the best way to deal with pirates was to cut off their resources.

Mission struggled to muster any sympathy for their plight. He and Starscream had had more than their fair share of interactions with groups such as theirs in the past, and the pirates had been far from merciful to his creator when the thruster had been on the other pede.

Mission looked up from the map to see just where they were heading, and through the thick humid mists of the grey planet, a rocky cliff-edge emerged. At the top was the smuggler's den.

Mission armed his weapon.

"Intelligence reports confirm the base has been left unprotected," his sire said easily, brushing his null-ray down.

Mission shifted his footing, "You're sure? What if it's a trap."

Megatron shrugged, "Then I will have you to watch my back."

His sire continued on, heading towards the unknown with the confidence of a mech who feared nothing. Mission lingered back a moment, thinking of all the times his creator had been 'sure' in the past, only for the unexpected to blow up in his face.

But his sire wasn't Starscream, and in all the time Mission had spent with Megatron over the last few years, his sire hadn't been wrong yet.

Mission offlined his nullrays and jogged to catch up, "Wait, sire!"

Half hidden amongst the mist, his sire's towering frame turned at the waist towards him. Mission could just about make out the easy pride on his face and the warm glow of his optics behind the swirling wisps.

But there was another red dot, reflecting off the mists. Mission halted mid-step, optics flicking to it in confusion as it moved across the rocky ground and wandered up Megatron's frame. He pointed, "Is that-?"

The red dot swept from Megatron's arm and swung towards him. Mission glanced down and saw it glimmering off his crimson chest plates. He squinted at the rocky cliff ahead of them, where the laser seemed to be coming from-

There was a crash of armour on rock and Mission looked up to see his sire hurtling towards him. He heard a crack echo through the air just before Megatron slammed into him with fifty something tonnes of battle-armour. Mission was still falling back, knocked clean off his feet, when a black, plasma-charged harpoon burst out of the swirling mists and struck Megatron through the shoulder.

Mission hit the rock with a hard slam, impact and shock alike knocking the air from his vents.

Megatron roared in pain, falling heavily to one knee, but was rising again with a furious hiss the next second, seizing the end of the harpoon and snapping it off. The wet rock under his pedes was shining with spilt energon. Megatron snapped his head in the direction of the attack, denta gritted and optics flashing. He didn't seem to notice the energon gushing from the gaping wound in his shoulder where the harpoon had been strong enough to pierce even the thickest part of his battle armour.

"Sire!" Mission scrambled to his feet, spark hammering in it's chamber.

"Get down!" Megatron bellowed, lifting his fusion cannon and firing back at their attackers. A ball of concentrated fusion arced into the air and disappeared into the mists, reappearing half a second later as a massive explosion against the side of the cliff.

A second crack rang out and Megatron dived out of the way of an unseen obstacle, moments before a second harpoon whistled by. Mission kept low to the ground, looking around for cover. But the rocks were small and there was only the mist, and their enemies would be tracking their heat signatures.

He scrambled to activate his comm, fingers shaking as he hailed the Nemesis waiting for them in orbit.

The cracks of the harpoon gun were joined by spitting bullets. They rained down against the rock at Megatron's pedes. He saw his sire flinch back when a handful pinged across his torso, knocking his arm as he went to take fire. His fusion blast went wide. "Get back to the ship!"

Mission clutched at the rock under his hands, his declaration of refusing to leave Megatron dying in his vocaliser when something small and round and beeping landed between them and blew up. Heat washed across Mission's armour as the huge fireball erupted, illuminating the air. It's dull boom blew out his audials, and all he could hear was muffled static and ringing as they struggling to reset themselves. His optics struggled to see through the smoke and dust. He blinked, flinching and folding his wings down when he felt more bullets whistle close by.

As the dust of the explosion began to clear, Mission spied his sire, scorched and bloodied, falling weakly to one knee.

"No!" Mission stumbled upright, optics stinging as he watched Megatron struggle to rise again.

Megatron's knee gave out and he fell to his hands, but his damaged shoulder was too weak to hold him. He collapsed to the ground before Mission could reach him. Optics dimming.

Mission had to get him out of here. Had to get them both to safety. He couldn't return to the Nemesis alone. He couldn't leave Thrax and Invicta without a sire. He knew what that was like, he knew how much it sucked-

He fell to his knees as his sire's side and wrapped his arms around one giant, limp forearm. The overwhelming stench of energon flooded his olfactory, making his optics sting and water. He lifted, but could barely budge him.

"Sire, sire get up!" He hissed, shoving at him with all his strength. Megatron's optics were offline now, his vents working shallowly and unevenly. "Sire!" His voice cracked, panic reaching a crescendo.

As soon as the heat from the explosion subsided their attackers would be firing on them again. And this time Megatron was a sitting duck- "Sire!" He yelled, punching him in sheer frustration. Megatron's armour scrapped heavily against the rock, but still he didn't rouse. The rock beneath his frame was darkening with energon.

Mission armed his null-rays and stood up, moving in front of his sire to shield him and pointing his weapons up at the smoking cliff. They didn't have the reach or force of a fusion cannon, but he wasn't going to just sit back and die.

Before he could pull the trigger and give away their position, the sky erupted in noise. The roar of dozens of thrusters shot overhead. Mission looked up and glimpsed the colourful under bellies of Decepticon seeker-jets shooting overhead and released a gasping breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.

The shooting started again, this time directed overhead, but the seekers returned in kind, firing enough torpedoes to light the cliff up. It began to collapse, huge chunks of rock crumbling and cracking, shaking the ground under Mission's pedes as they tumbled to the ground. Unbalanced, he wobbled and stumbled back, falling over his sire's prone frame. He rolled onto his hands and knees and shielded his sire's head as best he could, protecting him from any stray shots.

The smoke and dust was disturbed when a seeker broke out of formation and dove from the sky towards them. A figure of red, white, and sky blue armour parted the mist and came striding towards them. Mission could have sobbed in relief.

Starscream.

He reached out and Starscream seized his wrist in a grip so tight it was painful, tugging him up and away from Megatron. Mission pulled against his grip, not wanting to leave his sire.

"Get back to the ship!" Starscream snarled.

"No, I-!"

"Now," Starscream twisted him around and pushed him away. Mission stumbled back until his wings hit the solid chest of another seeker. He tipped his head back and found Skywarp. The purple seeker locked an arm around his middle tightly, preventing him from breaking free.

"Wait-!" He tried

He watched Starscream drop to his knees and lay Megatron's thick armoured arm across his shoulders, and with strength Mission had never known he possessed, began to rise with Megatron's unconscious form draped across his back. He snapped his gaze back to them, harsh and impatient. "Skywarp! Get him out of here!"

Mission felt Skywarp nod, and before anymore could be done or said the humid, grey planet and the traumatising scene in front of him disappeared in a flash of purple. Mission found himself standing in the Nemesis's hanger bay, the planet's condensation still dripping off his armour, his hands sticky with his sire's energon.

Skywarp squeezed his shoulder. "You stay right here."

"But I-"

By the time Mission had turned around Skywarp was gone. He swallowed, stood alone in the empty flight hanger, and realised he had no idea what to do.

* * *

The halls of the ship were near deserted. Mission suspected that was because all those not fighting planet-side were cramped into the communication hub together, watching the drama on Soundwave's screens.

Mission had no desire to watch. He was cold and wet and aching, and the only place he wanted to be was in a shower, alone. He slipped into his parent's quarters and glanced at their berth as he passed through to get to their wash-rack. One half was a mess of crumpled berth covers, the other had been tucked in, smoothed out, and folded back -one of Megatron's passive-aggressive push backs against Starscream's criminal level of messiness.

He got into the wash-rack and activated the solvent. It sprinkled across his armour lightly, rinsing it of the dust and moisture from the planet. He stared at his pedes and watched the solvent turn a grey with the dirt, then purple with energon. Megatron's energon.

His vision blurred as coolant gathered in the channels beneath his optics. He tilted his face up and let the solvent wash it away.

The door beeped and swept open behind him. Mission whipped around, spark skipping a beat, but it wasn't Starscream, nor one of his trine. Soundwave loomed ominously.

"Come," he ordered, monotone clear over the sound of the solvent.

Mission shivered despite the warm spray. "Are they back?"

"Starscream; requires your presence." Soundwave didn't elaborate.

Mission swallowed, reaching back blindly to switch off the spray. "Where?"

"Med-bay five."

Mission thought about what he would find in med-bay five. His sire torn and blasted open, covered in energon? A blackened, charred husk with Megatron's face? Would he see his impenetrable armour rendered, his optics dark and lifeless?

His optics blurred again. He looked away, unable to admit that he couldn't face such a thing with the stoicism that was expected of a Decepticon.

He heard Soundwave move into the small washroom. "Your siblings are frightened and confused," Soundwave continued regardless, tugging on all the right threads. "Starscream; requests you be with them while he tends to Lord Megatron."

Mission swallowed again but nodded. He could do that. He _should_ do that. Thrax and Invicta were still small and stupid but they would know something was going on, and they were too young to be in the med-bay with Starscream, witnessing what had happened. Seeing their sire like _that_.

Soundwave took his shoulder and began it guide him out. Mission lifted his helm high and bottled his emotions back up. He'd never live it down if any of the underlings saw him so emotionally compromised. He needed to be strong. If Megatron was indisposed, it would be up to him to protect his creator and siblings, just like how he used to.

He had done it once. He could do it again.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Mission was sat on a crate outside med-bay five, Invicta tucked against his chest and Thrax sat on his knee, clinging to his arm with that unbreakable grip of his.

"You're hurting me," he complained.

Thrax's massive crimson optics stared at him with an intensity that should have been beyond a sparkling his age. "Is sire going to die?"

Invicta stirred against his chest at the question, lifting her frowning face up towards him.

"No," Mission said, ignoring the pressure building in his chest. "I don't think so."

Thrax squeezed him tighter, and if the little limpet didn't let up soon he was going to have to join his sire in needing medical attention. He didn't stop him though, and endured, like any good brother would. Invicta meanwhile was saying nothing. Mission wasn't sure how much she understood of what was going on, but she was still uncommonly quiet. Mission stroked down between her wings, offering comfort regardless.

He had no idea how many hours they were sat outside waiting. No one emerged from the med-bay to tell them what was going on, and before long his siblings had fallen asleep against him. Mission would have liked to slip off into the blissful numbness of recharge himself, but his processor was too active, too busy running through scenarios of what could or should have happened. He should have recognised what the red dot was sooner. He should have dived out of the way himself. He should have been smarter, more alert. He hadn't been taken as a liability, he was supposed to have been watching Megatron's back.

If he had, his sire would have had to take that first harpoon for him. And then none of this would have happened.

The door to the med-bay swept open and Mission jumped, sitting upright from where he had been slumping down the bulkhead. Thrax and Invicta began to stir too, knuckling at their optics and blinking lazily.

An uncharacteristically dishevelled Starscream was stood in the hallway.

He had seen better days, but Mission knew the energon streaking his armour was not his own. The white of his plating had been smeared and smudged with it, and there was a stray streak of it across his cheek. Mission struggled to look away from it all. But Starscream, for the first time ever, didn't seem to care what he looked like.

Nor did Invicta, from the way she was lifting her arms and whining wordlessly to be picked up by him.

Starscream came forwards and took her, cooing to her indulgently. Invicta locked her tiny arms around Starscream's neck and clung.

"Thundercracker and Skywarp will take them back to their quarters," Starscream told Mission, and the trine in question appeared wordlessly from the med-bay to do so. They were eerily quiet and sombre. Starscream didn't even look at them when Thundercracker collected a dozing Thrax from Mission and Skywarp struggled to prise Invicta off of his neck.

She cried angrily when she was taken away. Thrax was too emotionally exhausted to do anything but drop his head to Thundercracker's shoulder and fall back to sleep.

"What about me?" Mission bowed his head, knowing already where this was going.

Starscream nodded sharply in the direction of the med-bay.

Mission clung to the crate beneath him, fingers shaking. He shook his head, but didn't into how to explain to Starscream that he was scared of what he'd find in there. "I can't-"

Starscream's optics flared dangerously, "I'm not _asking_."

Mission stood, feeling small and cowed under his creator's strict gaze. Starscream was usually the more easy going parent, the one that let him get away with everything. It was Megatron that chased him down and lectured him every five minutes.

Starscream pointed him in, and placed a hand on his back to nudge him across the threshold when he hesitated.

The medics were still loitering near the repair bench Megatron had been spread across. Mission was disappointed to see that he looked far worse now than he had when Skywarp had teleported him off the planet. His armour had been removed and was sitting in broken pieces on another repair bench nearby. Many tubes and machines had been hooked up to the exposed hardware beneath. It was a mess of wires and tubes and pumping things. He was unrecognisable as Megatron, stripped back and taken down to the bare struts. And Mission struggled to see how he could be put back together again.

He inched forwards nervously. Starscream strode past and moved around him to take a seat at the head of the repair bench. He placed his servo atop Megatron's, slipping his fingers under his palm, holding his hand.

Mission swallowed. "Is he-?"

"Dying?" Starscream released Megatron and sat back in his seat, crossing one leg atop the other. "No ...but it was a close one."

He looked up at Mission, and his gaze was suddenly softer, tireder. Starscream's harsh stoic demeanour was only hiding the deep hurt beneath. He was just as worried, just as frightened, and didn't know how to show it.

Mission crossed the room towards him and locked his arms around Starscream in a tight hug. He felt his creator stiffen momentarily before accepting the embrace. A chin dropped to his helm and a hand ran up back. Mission could feel how it shook.

"I'm sorry," Mission whispered, knowing this was all his fault.

Starscream pulled him back to look at him, optics harsh and sharp once again.

"Sorry?" He frowned. "You did nothing wr-"

"Exactly. I did nothing!" Mission risked a glance back at Megatron's unconscious frame. "I should have protected him. He said I was there to watch his back."

Starscream's hands squeezed his shoulders, encouraging him to meet his gaze. "No, he was to protect _you_. And that's exactly what he did," Starscream looked past Mission to smile at Megatron's frame. "He's a good sire."

"He's no good as a sire if he's dead," Mission hissed.

Starscream took his chin and lifted it, fingers a fraction too tight. Mission stifled the instinctive flinch.

"Let me tell you something," he hissed quietly. "I spent millennia after millennia trying to kill your sire before you were sparked, but obviously, I never succeeded. And I am _good_ at killing things, aren't I?"

Mission nodded and Starscream turned his head so he was looking at Megatron. "It'll take more an a hovel of greasy pirates to take him down. When he wakes up, he'll be insulted to learn you'd been so worried about him."

Mission squinted at his creator. "You're worried."

"Not anymore I'm not," Starscream's lips pursed together. "And I won't tell if you don't."

Mission nodded firmly, "Agreed."

"Good," Starscream released him. Mission rubbed his jaw. "Now I don't expect he'll be waking anytime tonight. You can go-"

"No," Mission hopped up onto the edge of Megatron's repair berth. Now that he looked closer, the tubes and equipment weren't so overwhelming. He could still see his sire underneath, the way his vents breathed in and out, the strong pulse of his spark. He was fine. He would be fine. "I'll wait till he wakes up."

Starscream leant back in his chair and kicked his feet up onto the repair bench next to him. "We'll wait together."

They didn't have to wait long though.

On the repair bench, despite all medical assumption, Megatron's optics began to flicker open. There was a soft wheezing noise when he opened his mouth.

Tanks jumping into his throat, Mission up on his knees in a spark-beat to see him better. He only glimpsed at his sire's groggy face before his creator had flown out of his chair and was almost smothering Megatron, cupping his cheeks and pushing their faces together.

" _Ge' offa' me,"_ was grumbled incoherently between kisses and coos.

Mission smiled, sitting back onto his heels, happy to wait for his creator to calm down enough for him to get his turn.

And maybe his creator was right. If Starscream couldn't kill Megatron, perhaps nothing could.


End file.
